


Solution Concept

by Steals_Thyme (Liodain)



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Community: kink_bingo, Control Issues, Daddy Issues, F/M, First Person Narrative, Non-Linear Narrative, Power Imbalance, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liodain/pseuds/Steals_Thyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurie needs control in her relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solution Concept

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)**kink_bingo** – prompt is 'masters, doms, subs and slaves'. I will disclaim and say this isn't intended to be a true, healthy BDSM relationship.

Blindfolded, I will choose to see nothing. My ears will be sealed with plugs, and I will kneel with my hands behind me. Not tied, simply clasped with my fingers curled around the opposite wrist. She will make me wait.

It will be wonderfully, completely silent.

-  


 

She is a sunset, the yellow of her outfit set aflame by Mars' red sky, refracted through the architecture of my glass world. She unwraps tobacco with hands that shake only slightly. "I'm edgy in relationships with strong, forceful guys," she says.

-  


 

Her shoe heel digs into my thigh. It hurts as much as a pinprick might; my flesh yields to accommodate her. It makes her angry, and she leans harder. I merely yield further.

She does not speak to me for days.

-  


 

It does not hurt and I do not feel unsafe, but Laurie is close to hyperventilating. She strikes at my chest with an open palm, over and over.

"Snowstorm," I say, and cup her cheek. "Snowstorm, Laurie. Snowstorm."

Her gasps turn to sobs and I gather her to me. Her body shakes in my arms as though she will go to pieces, fragment and drop apart like cracked glass. She needs her dark places, but she also needs to be able to leave them.

I understand.

-  


 

I tell her that, in a moment, she will surprise me with the information that she has been sleeping with Dreiberg.

-  


 

Laurie is sitting on the edge of the bed. She is naked, and her hair is lifting with a static charge. She looks beautiful. "I want to talk," she says. She sounds nervous, but determined.

I already know what she wants to talk about, but I ask her nonetheless.

-  


 

She sits cross-legged on the workbench, and lights her pipe. She inhales, takes it from her mouth and stares at it for a long moment.

-  


 

She holds a wine glass full of water, stem arranged delicately between her long fingers. She tips her wrist, swirling the contents. "Turn this to wine," she says.

"Yes, Mistress," I reply. It is a small thing, but it makes her eyes shine brilliantly.

-  


 

I divide myself, because I am close to a breakthrough with the project I'm working on. My attentions are entirely on Laurie, however—it is always my desire to please her.

She is allowing me touch her, undulating under my hands. Her skin is like the sky, bathed in me. I wonder if I should show her how she sparkles. Perhaps she would like the stars spread about her, diamonds against the dark canvas of her hair.

Two hands are not sufficient to bring her the pleasure she deserves.

I realize my mistake only when she opens her eyes, only when she makes a sound like struck crystal.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, though I already know that is not enough to repair the transgression of our agreement.

She says nothing for a long time, and then she says, "Don't you ever do that unless I say you can."

She tells me face the corner, on my knees. My ears are plugged and she blinds my eyes.

In the silence, I gladly wait.

-  


 

I will hear the whistle of parting air, and will be able to visualize the crop as it descends. I know it will catch the back of my thighs, but the sensation will exist for me only as an abstract.

I do not need oxygen as I did when I was flesh and blood, but breathing is a habit I choose to cultivate. Human beings are fearful of entities that do not breathe, yet still live.

The crop will catch the back of my thighs, and I will catch my breath.

She will stroke my heated skin, and croon silken words of encouragement.

-  


 

She is hurt and angry, but I do not understand the purpose of assigning a safe word.

She chooses one for me. I know the word holds significance for her, and yet, she does not.

-  


 

People do not like to be told that they are puppets, that their lives are preordained. Even if they can accept this fact when it is explained to them, they rarely do so with equanimity. They attempt to pull the strings with a desperate fervor to prove that I am wrong. They seek control.

I see no harm in allowing them to try.

Laurie makes a proposition. I agree to it.

-  


 

"Right, so this gluino—whatever the hell _that_ is—it's more important to you than a dinner date." She will throw her hands up in frustration. "You know what, never mind. This just... this isn't working any more. You're not even trying. You can go fuck yourself, Jon."

I'll take a moment to consider, and will conclude that it's perfectly possible. "Would that please you?" I will ask.

She will ignore me, and bend to scoop up a sugar cube wrapper. Then she will call Dreiberg.

-  


 

After every stroke, she kisses my heated skin, like a signature.

-  


 

I am on Mars. I am alone, and it is completely silent.


End file.
